


When Nothing Is Left (Good Men Still Remain)

by Marie_Phantom



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Multi, Road Trips Make Everything Okay (In Theory), Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2686979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Phantom/pseuds/Marie_Phantom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of the floor being destroyed from under them, Steve and the Winter Soldier have a few more minutes in which to talk. </p><p>Rather than disappearing, Bucky and Steve embark on an epic road trip across America, and discover both themselves, and whether HYDRA managed to totally destroy the man Bucky once was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Nothing Is Left (Good Men Still Remain)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [When Nothing Is Left (Good Men Still Remain)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614672) by [ogawaryoko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ogawaryoko/pseuds/ogawaryoko)



> I was re-watching CA:TWS (because I cannot get enough feels apparently), and a plot bunny nibbled at my fingers until I was compelled to write this. Tumbleweed still goes on, and I will be writing more in that verse, but like Loki Wrapped In Red, this commanded me.
> 
> As I have never been to America, I will be relaying extensively on maps and websites for both geography and landmarks the boys can visit. Please don't be offended if I get something wrong.
> 
> This story did. Not. Want. To. Get Written.
> 
> Flames will not be tolerated. On the other hand, reviews and kudos are love (and fuel me).

"Then finish it." Steve said, peering at the Winter soldier through eyes closed shut by bruising. He gulped air and mentally surrendered himself to death, because he had discovered the limits to his survival, and it was living a life without Bucky.

"'Cos I'm with you, till the end of the line."

The Soldier froze. His arm (that damned metal arm), hung suspended in the air, and Steve could feel the fingers of his flesh hand move against the uniform, as the Soldier sought a better grip. 

(It was more like a baby kneading something, anything, for a tiny scrap of comfort.)

Steve frowned when the blow did not fall, and he opened his eyes as wide as they could go. The Soldier was staring back at him, hair whipping in his face and his face twisted. But his eyes, his wide blue eyes were glazed with tears, and every so often his breathing would hitch as he valiantly fought down a sob.

"What?" The Soldier whispered. Steve fought against the tide of unconsciousness that was pulling him under and focused on the Soldiers face.

"What?" he asked the Soldier.

The Soldier lowered his arm and clutched at the uniform, bunching the fabric around his fingers and, like his flesh counterpart, started to knead. He leaned in close, so close that Steve could feel sour breath against his face.

"Say that again." The Soldier asked. His voice was so soft.

"End...of the line. Always there for you. Till the end of the line." Steve gasped. He could feel the bullet in his stomach with each inhale, and tried not to grimace with the pain.

The Soldier whimpered softly and brought his face closer to Steve's. Their noses brushed against each other.

"Tell me." He ordered. "Tell me what that means." 

Steve's heart stuttered in his chest, and he gazed at the Soldiers eyes, now fixed on his mouth.

"It means," he said, fighting even harder to stay awake, "there will always be me. I will always be there, Bucky. Until the very end. Until you die, or I die, we will always have each other."

The tears in the Soldiers eyes overflowed, and he gently laid his head onto Steve's chest. Steve could feel the Soldiers shoulder shake as he sobbed, and gently brought his own arms up, resting the hand on the Soldiers greasy hair. He stroked the strands as the Soldier cried.

"You're my mission." The Soldier said between sobs. His fingers continued to push and pull against the fabric of Steve's uniform.

"I'm you're friend." Steve whispered.

"You're my mission and I cannot kill you. Why can't I kill you? I only now how to kill and serve, and yet I cannot kill you." The Soldier was confused and so very, very scared. He knew he had been Wiped recently, could still feel the residue headache behind his eyes, and he knew,  _he knew_ , it had something to do with this man. This mission, who had somehow become the most important the thing in his life.

But he knew, when HYDRA got their hands on his, he would end up praying for a death that would never come.

(It had happened before, it would happen again.)

The Soldier continued to sob, and Steve continued to pet his hair. He gave up trying to resist the blackness that sat in the corner of his eyes, and as he fell unconscious, he asked any deity that was out there to look after Bucky.

The Soldier noticed his mission had gone to sleep when the motions in his hair stopped. His lifted his head and looked at his mission, and saw he was unconscious. The Soldier took note of the falling debris around him and quickly made a decision. When the floor finally disappeared from under his feet, he had his arms wrapped tightly around his mission and they dropped in to the river together.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When the rescue team reached the bank, where they hoped Captain America might come out of, the only things they found were the crumpled and blood stained uniform of the national icon.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The Soldier hot-wired the first mini-van he could find, propping his mission against an alley wall as he commandeered the vehicle. He wanted a vehicle that he and the mission could live out of for some time. He had absolutely no desire to go back to HYDRA, so he followed his gut and kept moving. When he found a vehicle to his liking, he hot-wired it and then bundled his mission into the passenger seat.

His mission was barley awake, dressed only in a t-shirt the Soldier had stolen from a washing line and a pair of sweatpants that he had picked up from outside a clothing store. He was sitting on a trash can and leaning his head against the wall. He opened his eyes and looked at the Soldier.

"Bucky, we shouldn't steal." He murmured.

The Soldier turned and gave Steve a black look before walking to Steve and slinging an arm around his waist. He gently walked his mission to the van and strapped him in. Steve winced and gasped as the strap crossed his stomach and pressed against the bullet wound.

The Soldier bit his lip and eyed the wound.

"Is the bullet still in there?" he asked. Steve turned his head to look at the Soldier through bleary eyes.

"I don't..." he gulped and tried again. "I think it might be."

The Soldier frowned. "I was under the impression that you can push out such objects." The files he had been given by HYDRA, the ones detailing his mission (the last mission) had informed him about the missions super-healing.

Steve grimaced. "I can." He said, feeling sleepy. "But sometimes, I need a little help."

The Soldier rolled this information around his mind and then nodded. "I shall help you."

Steve smiled gently. "Thank you Bucky." He closed his eyes and his breathing evened out as he slowly went to sleep. The Soldier watched him for a minute, before closing the door gently and walking around to the drivers side. He started the van and drove away, getting out of Washington as fast as he legally could.

He could hear the mission breathing deeply by his side, and occasionally he would look over to make sure that his mission was alright. In the relative sense of alright, being that he had a bullet festering in his stomach.

The Soldier had not planned that far ahead. He had never had to, as his missions in the past (that he could barely remember, but knew deep in his bones) had not lasted longer than a few days. Four at the most, as HYDRA couldn't risk the Soldier being awake longer than that. As the last mission had proven, the Soldier would start to remembers past.

And that was something that HYDRA hadn't needed. 

Every member of the organisation had known exactly who the Soldier had been, from the lowest tech to Pierce. Bucky Barnes, war hero and master assassin. The man who would often spend the evenings when he was not in cryo or on a mission of his knees with a cock in his mouth, or on the floor with a cock up his ass, sometimes both. It was the only time when the Soldier would show emotion, which consisted of a narrowing of his eyes and sometimes (only when he was lying in a bed with Pierce, a hand clasped around his narrow waist as he stared at the dark wall and breathed deep to try and calm down) with tears dripping gently down is hollow cheeks.

But he was free now. He had the most important thing in the planet in the same van as he was, and he was going to devote his immediate future to try and figure out why the mission known as Steve had stayed his hand and prevented him for completing his mission.

He drove and drove, and when he saw a furniture store, he pulled in to the lot. It was now three in the morning, and the Soldier walked out. He opened the door on the missions side and peered at him.

"Hey." Steve said gently. He reached out a hand and touched the Soldier gently on the cheek. The Soldier jerked his head away and frowned, suddenly afraid at the defiance. Steve looked at the Soldier.

"It's okay. It's okay. I'm sorry I touched you."

The Soldier frowned and made sure that the mission was strapped in. "Stay there." He ordered. He turned and was about to close the door when he heard Steve murmur behind him.

"Where are you going?" 

The Soldier looked back at Steve over his shoulder, and when the moon fought just right and caused his face to glow, the Soldier felt his heart, an organ he had long thought dead, squeeze in his chest.

"We need supplies." He managed to get out before practically running for the warehouse. 

Half a hour later, and Steve woke up when the doors at the rear of the van opened. Steve turned his head watched the Soldier shove a mattress in between the seats, followed by several bags full of clothes and a medical kit looted from the furniture store. Amazingly he had managed to steal all of this without setting off the alarms.

"What?" he asked. There was the sound of doors slamming, and then the Soldier reappeared. He got in and drove, all with Steve still staring at him.

"What's with the mattress?" Steve finally asked after a few miles. The Soldier licked his lips.

"You need comfortable things." The Soldier finally said. Steve felt his heart break a little at the hesitancy when the Soldier had said the word 'comfortable'.

"So do you." Steve said softly. The Soldier stiffened but pretended he hadn't heard.

"We need to get the bullet out of you. I have a medical kit."

"Okay." Steve closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "Okay, we'll stop at a motel and then-"

The Soldier jerked the wheel sharply and pulled over to the side of the road. He then turned and glared at Steve.

"No motels, nothing that they can track us with." He said. His voice was full of fear. Steve felt his already broken heart crack a little bit more.

"No motels. Okay, no motels. But we need to sleep. You need to sleep."

The Soldier shook minutely. "The Asset does not require sleep." He said, voice monotone with rote.

Steve's lips shook as he repressed his tears. "You're not the Asset. You're not the Soldier. You are Bucky, you're my best friend. You need to sleep."

The Soldier shook his head violently. "The Asset..." He gulped and started again. "The Asset does not require sleep." But he was  _tired,_ so  _tired_ , and that mattress had felt so  _soft_...

"No." Steve said firmly. "We both need to sleep. Pull into the next wood you can find, I think we'll both be hidden there, and then we can sleep."

An Order. The Soldier finally had an Order. He nodded to show his compliance and then drove on, pulling over to a heavily wooded area when he found it. He turned over to find the mission had already gone to sleep, and he ached to join him, but the Soldier needed to make sure that his mission was comfortable first before seeing to his own maintenance.

Steve woke briefly to the sound of metal screeching, and turned his head to see the Soldier tearing out the remaining seats. He had stoled a sander, and was also shaving the remaining metal down on the floor, so that the mattress now lay on an even surface, in the back of the mini van. When this was finished, the Soldier covered the mattress with a stolen sheet and piled it high with duvets and pillows, before coming round to Steve's door and gently easing him to the back. He laid him down, and covered him from head to toe with blankets, so all that remained of Steve were a few tufts of hair.

It was the Soldiers duty to make sure that the mission was comfortable. This was ingrained to his bones, and he was helpless to fight it.

He was about to go and settle down to keep watch in the front when Steve's hand shot out of the duvet pile and latched on his his left wrist. The Soldier immediately froze.

"Sleep here." Steve said softly. He was employing the Power Of The Baby Blues (Tony had christened his puppy dog eyes, not knowing a younger Bucky had done that many years before) to maximum effect, and although he could not feel the lessening of tension through the flesh, he could see it in the set of the shoulders.

"I should keep watch." The Soldier whispered. He was so  _tired_...

"Sleep here. I'll keep watch with you."

The Soldier could smell the blatant lie, but his shoulders slumped and he quickly slipped out of his clothes, leaving them in a dirty pile at the end of the bed. He shivered in the cold, but closed the door and slipped under the covers with the mission. The mission immediately curled up against him and murmured in to his neck "G'night, Bucky."

The Soldier momentarily froze when the arm slipped around his waist, but when he buried his nose in to the missions downy fluff on his head, he smelt  _homeSTEVEhome_. And he too gently slipped off to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Breakfast was coffee, brewed over an open fire, before the Soldier had rolled Steve off the side of the mattress and covered the whole thing in plastic.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked. The wound in his stomach was healing, although there was still a slight hole.

"The bullet is still inside of you. We need to get it out." The Soldier did not look up from his ministrations, finished with the plastic and busying himself with the medical kit. He would not look the mission in the eye.

"Yeah." Steve grimaced and reached around a hand to feel his lower back. There was a slight bulge where the bullet was trying to get out, but there was no hole for it to exit. The surgery that the Soldier was hoping to complete today would remove the bullet and then sitter up the remaining holes.

Steve moved to the mattress and laid face down on it. The Soldier leaned over him with a vial of morphine.

"Leave it." Steve said. The Soldier frowned in confusion. "My body will metabolise it quickly than it will work. Just get on with it." He laid his head down and braced for the pain. There was no movement before the Soldier laid a hand gently on his back.

"You should relax." He said. Steve let out a shuddering breath before loosening his muscles. The Soldier patted him once before reaching for the scalpel.

At the first cut Steve groaned and gripped the plastic hard. He could feel the cut getting wider and wider, and knew that it needed to be for the Soldier to get in there with a pair of tweezers and dig out the bullet. But it  _hurt_.

Fuck, did it  _hurt_.

Out of the haze of pain he managed to feel the Soldier rub a hand gently down his back. He swallowed around the lump of nostalgia in his throat as he remembered Bucky doing that to him whenever he had an asthma attack.

"Soon. It'll all be over soon." He heard the Soldier say gently and he dug deeper into Steve's back. There was a small  _plink!_ as the tweezers finally touched the bullet, and then an awful suctioning sound as the Soldier pulled the bullet out.

"Aaaaahh!" Steve cried. He clenched his fists but kept the muscles in his back loose, and soon he felt the stitching needle pierce his back, and the thick thread slide through his skin. He knew the sickening sensation would dissipate, but his stomach rolled, both with hunger and the sensation of the thread being pulled threw his skin.

When the Soldier had finished, he patted Steve very gently on the shoulder and quickly exited the van, leaving the Soldier to clean up the plastic and the medical items whilst Steve threw up in the bushes. His stomach continued to heave, and he knew he had to eat soon. Ideally, Steve should eat every5 hours, due to his metabolism, and when he had been living in his apartment, he had done so. But he had eaten nothing for coming on two days, and he had to get something in his stomach soon.

God only knew when Bucky had last eaten.

He straightened up and wiped his mouth, coming back to the van and accepting the water the Soldier held out for him. He rinsed and spat, then climbed in to the drivers side.

"I should drive. You're ability to concentrate had probably been compromised by pain of the operation." The Soldier protested, not allowing the door to close. Steve put out his arm and pulled the door shut.

"I need food, you probably do as well, and I know a great little place right off the road in about 10 miles."

The Soldier looked panicked and shook his head. "No public places. We'll be seen!" ' _We'll be caught_!' was unsaid, but heard all the same. Steve gentled his expression but remained resolute.

"We have got to eat. We both have a similar enough metabolism that I can guess that you are probably starving, and I'm gonna pass out in another hour if I don't get food."

The Soldier work his jaw then went to the passenger side, slamming the door behind him and crossing his arms. Steve recognised the emotion the Soldier was trying to bury, because it was one Steve had often seen on Bucky's face when Steve had run out of breath.

Fear. Pure, unadulterated fear. 

Steve knew the Soldier was afraid of being caught, and so knew that he had to be in and out of this diner as quickly as he could. He started the van and drove on to the main road. They drove in silence until they reached the diner. When Steve pulled over and got out, the Soldier reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Don't tell anyone who you are." He said urgently, pale blue eyes burning into Steve's.

Steve nodded. "I'll be silent." He walked in to the diner and went up to the counter, grinning his wide grin at the waitress, who nearly poured coffee over her arm.

"Hi."

"H...hello."

"How ya doin' today?" he asked, affecting a strong Southern drawl. The girl whimpered slightly and put the coffee down.

"Can I help you with something?" the girl asked. The blush was spreading slowly but relentlessly across her cheeks, and Steve ignored it with resolution. He focused on the board above her head, with displayed the menu.

"Whatcha got to take away?" he asked.

The girl jumped and refocused. "Everything to take away. I mean, it's better eaten in but we can box it up for you to eat on the road."

"Great!" Steve said, stretching his USO smile wide. "I'll take two Sunday specials with extra fries, pancakes with extra bacon and two large coffees to go." 

The girl jumped and hurriedly wrote everything down, going back into the kitchen to give the chef the order. Steve breathed out slowly and rolled his shoulders, releasing some of the tension and feeling the wound in his back stretch. He leaned on the counter and hummed under his breath, keeping on eye on the television in the corner as it played the footage of the crash at the Triskelion over and over again. The ticker tape at the bottom told him that Natasha was going before the Senate to answer questions about S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Here you go. That'll be $30.55." The girl came back with two steaming boxes and two large containers of coffee. Steve reached into his back pocket and drew out his wallet, handing over the money. He picked up the food and coffee and was walking out of the door when the hear the girl ask "Are you him?"

Steve turned. "Who?"

The girl bit her lip and looked at the television, which was now displaying a picture of Captain America, declaring him missing in action.

Steve faked a laugh. "Nah."

The girl frowned at him. "But you look just like him."

"I get that all the time." Steve bobbed his head at her and then exited the cafe, walking back to the van. He could see the Soldier in the passenger seat, glaring at him through his hair and flexing the finger on his hands.

Steve got in the van and passed the Soldier the food and coffee.

"You're late." The Soldier growled. 

"I didn't realise that getting food had to be done within set time limits." Steve said, softening his speech with a curl of his lip. The Soldier continued to glare at Steve, even as he leaned in close to the boxes to smell the food.

Steve pulled out of the lot and made his way down the road. He kept looking forward but kept the Soldier in his peripheral vision. The Soldier was prying open the boxes and gently pulled out a piece of bacon.

"Help yourself." Steve said.

The Soldier sniffed the bacon before biting off a piece. His eyes widened at the taste and he stuffed the rest of the piece in his mouth, chewing frantically.

Steve felt his heart squeeze at the expression of wonder on the Soldiers face. "You once made a list."

"Hmmm?" the Soldier asked around his bacon.

"When..." Steve swallowed and tried again. "We served together, during the second world war."

The Soldier didn't say anything. He continued to look at Steve.

"I rescued you, from a HYDRA base during the last years of the war. You had been held by Zola and Schmidt, and they did experiments on you." Steve resolutely didn't look at the Soldier. "You must have been given a bastardised version of the serum I got, but we didn't know until recently. Anyway, when I found you, you were starved. Really thin, and you had always been skinny. We didn't have a lot to eat we we grew up, and I know, even though you lied, that you gave me all the food you could spare. Anyway, when you had been debriefed and gone to the surgeon, and we were in my tent (we shared), you told me that during your capture, you made a list. 'Food So Good It Makes You Want To Live'. You said that when you got back State-side, you were going to use all you pay, everything you had saved, and go on a massive eating binge. Anything you wanted, just a table piled high with food. And on that list, you had 'bacon so crisp it shattered when you bit into it'."

The Soldier swallowed the bacon. "I don't remember that."

Steve grimaced. "I know. I know that you don't remember anything about your life together. You don't even remember from 3 days ago. But I'll help you. I promise, if it takes the rest of my life, I'll help you remember the past. I'll protect you. You protect me, I protect you. That's how it's always been."

The Soldier had been steadily getting paler and paler as Steve had gone on. There was silence for about 5 minutes before the Soldier gasped "I need to vomit."

A couple of minutes later saw the van pulled in at a lay-by, the Soldier bent over the ditch on the other side, vomiting everything in his stomach (and more besides) whilst Steve held his hair back and apologised.

"I should have realised. You couldn't have eaten anything for ages. Little steps." He said to himself. "We need to take little steps."

The Soldier finished spitting and stood up. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and looked at Steve. (Not in the eye. You didn't look a Master in the eye).

"I haven't eaten for years." He said quietly.

Steve looked at him in confusion and slowly growing horror. "How did you get sustenance?"

The Soldier frowned, wracking his memory as he tried to remember what had happened after his last Wipe. He remembered being dressed as he shook with pain and involuntary tears leaked out of his eyes. But, in a dim part of his memory, he remembered lying in a different chair (not the Chair) with a tube down his nose.

"Fed me." He murmured. "Through my nose."

There was a beat of silence before Steve said, slightly incredulously "You haven't eaten anything solid in almost 60 years?"

The Soldier shook his head.

Steve sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "Alright. I'll start you on milkshakes, we can work our way up from them."

The Soldier didn't move, but wrapped his arms around his aching stomach. Steve reached into the car and brought out a bottle of water, which he offered to the Soldier. He took it and rinsed his mouth out.

"You feeling better?" Steve asked, taking back the bottle and having a drink himself. He reached a hand around his back and felt the incision. It was ridged and closed, already healed with the thread slowly being pushed out. He unraveled it gently. The Soldier abruptly spun him around and, using the last knife in his arsenal, undid the stitching and took it out.

"Let's go." Steve said, going to the van and closing the door behind him. The Soldier hesitated. Steve rolled down the window and poked his head out of it.

"If what you want to do is disappear, I can give you money to help you do so. You never need to see me again." In his chest, Steve's heart broke as he said this, but he had always looked out for Bucky's welfare, and if the Soldier needed to leave, then Steve would not stand in his way.

The Soldier shook his head and walked to the van, getting in to the passengers side and settling down in the seat. He leaned his dirty head against the window and closed his eyes. Steve's throat tightened at this sign of trust, and he drove the van back on to the road again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Leaving Washinton DC was almost depressingly easy. The Soldier crawled in to the back and hid under the duvets, Steve pulled the cap in his head lover his eyes and put on the thickest Brooklyn accent he could (his birth accent, which had lessened over years abroad and having people breathing down his neck about how strong it was) and as he handed in the fake passport he carried with him at all times (along with cough sweets, cash and his fake driving license) he ran his eyes up and down the security guard at the gate in such a way as to make the man extremely uncomfortable.

As he pulled away, he heard the guard say "Fuckin' faggot" under his breath, and he resisted the urge to back the van in to the little brown wooden the man was sitting in. He heard the Soldier shift in the back, and he drove as fast as he could away from the gateway.

"Easy there." He said soothingly. When he was several miles in to Virginia, he pulled over and let the Soldier clamber into the passenger seat.

"If this is to work, you cannot harm anyone. The last thing we need is for someone to guess where we are." Steve said. The Soldier didn't meet his eyes, allowing his hair to swing in front of his face and obscure his expression. Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at the grease. The Soldiers hair wasn't fairing any better.

"We need to wash." He murmured.

"No!" The Soldier swung around in his seat to stare wild-eyed at Steve. "No stops, we cannot be seen, we cannot be seen!" He breathing hitched as he thought about being caught by HYDRA again. They would punish him, worse than ever before, and he would beg for death.

"It's okay, it's okay." Steve soothed. He reached out a hand, but stopped before he could put it on the Soldier's shoulder. He didn't want to risk a broken wrist. "No one's going to catch us, but we have to be careful. We both need to clean up, or we'll get infections in our wounds and then we'll be in real trouble." His gaze was so sincere, the Soldier felt himself calming down.

Steve thought back to the fight on the Helicarrier and his eyes widened when he remembered all of the injuries that the Soldier had sustained. "How's your shoulder?" he asked.

The Soldier reached out his right arm and rotated the shoulder. "Popped it back in after the fall from the Helicarrier." He murmured. He was surprised, but did not move, when Steve shuffled along the bench seat and pulled down the t-shirt the Soldier was wearing, exposing the shoulder. It was purple and swollen, and the Soldier couldn't suppress a wince as Steve moved it.

"I should have been able to do it for you." Steve said softly.

"You were shot. You should not have been even awake." The Soldier replied. He allowed Steve to twist and manipulate his shoulder to his satisfaction. Steve was slightly amazed at how healed it was, but, given the serum currently in the Soldier DNA, he shouldn't be so surprised.

"Good. You have full dexterity of movement and you don't appear to be in too much pain." Steve said and gave back the arm, and the Soldier let him. When, in the past, he had had physical assessments of his body following missions, the medics and techs hadn't cared about how much pain he had been in. The Soldier felt relieved that this time, there was no pain.

"You gotta tell me if anything hurts, okay?" Steve asked suddenly. He stared into the Soldiers eyes, and the Soldier couldn't look away if he tried. He nodded and Steve smiled.

"Okay." Steve pulled out of the lay-by and onto the road. They drove.

 

 

**********

 

 

They waited until night, and broke in the YMCA in Orange, Virginia. They stood under the showers, and saw each other's bodies for the first time in 70 years. Steve swallowed down his rage as he beheld the scars decorating the Soldiers body, especially the ones around his shoulder.

"Bucky..." he whispered under the sound of the spray hitting the tiles. The Soldier glared at him through a curtain of wet brown hair.

"I am not Bucky. I don't even know who Bucky is." He snarled. His arms were wrapped self-consciously round his stomach, but did not obscure Steve's views of his more intimate parts. Steve's eyes flicked to his crotch, but quickly moved back to his face.

"Bucky was..." Steve swallowed and started again, running a hand through his hair and getting the soap out. "Bucky was my friend."

The Soldier frowned. "A friend?"

Steve nodded and reached out a hand to touch the Soldier's shoulder. The Soldier closed his eyes and shuddered, face paling as he thought to all the times he had been touched on the shoulder, and what that had led to. Steve froze and then gently re-drew his hand.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. They towelled off and got into the van. Steve drove them to the nearest wooded area and once again got in to the back. The Soldier once again prepared to stay awake until Steve gently tugged at his arm.

"You need to sleep." Steve said gently. The Soldier put up a token resistance, but he remembered how comfortable he had felt last night, and how rested he had felt in the morning. He could not remember the last time he had felt so good. He stripped off and got on to the mattress with Steve, who gently wrapped him in his arms and fell asleep almost straight away.

The Soldier remained awake a while longer, burying his nose once again into Steve's hair. He pondered at the hesitation when Steve had said that 'Bucky was his friend'. He got the impression that Steve and the man he once had been, the man called Bucky, may have been more. 

The Soldier sighed heavily, and fell asleep to the sound of Steve's deep, soothing breaths.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Getting in to Kentucky was as easy as getting in to Virginia, and once again they waited in the nearest town to break in to the nearest YMCA to wash and clean there clothes. They travelled though Kentucky, rarely staying in a town for long. However, once night after cleaning themselves off and as they made their way to the van, Steve said "Lets go out to eat tonight. I'm sick of highway food."

The Soldier froze and glared hard at Steve, but the man would not be moved.

"No." The Soldier said, voice hard.

"Yes."

"Not around people."

Steve sighed but continued to move down the street, looking for a homely enough diner. The Soldier ground his teeth but moved quickly to Steve's side, keeping himself between Steve and the road.

"We need proper food. If I see another crap cup of coffee I might scream." Steve said, smiling slightly at the Soldier, who continued to glare at Steve. His arms hugged his stomach, which was now more pronounced due to his taking in food on a regular basis. But it still ached, now more noticeable because of his regular meals.

They continued to walk along the street, weaving in and out of people fresh out of clubs and bars, all drunk and most merry. He might have been defrosted for 3 years, but he still had trouble with the kind of flesh being displayed but both men and women alike. Not because he was a prude (he had grown up in the gay district of New York, and had seen and heard much worse than what was happening nowadays), but he was more concerned about the fact that people seemed to take any flesh on display as an invitation to touch, whether solicited or not.

However, he had forgotten that the Soldier ( _not Bucky, not yet_ ) had not been acclimatised to the 21st century at all, and so, when he next turned his head to point Bucky towards a nice looking diner, he found himself alone. He turned in surprise and found Bucky standing stock still in the mouth of an alley, looking in with a shocked expression. _  
_

"Soldier?" he asked and made his way to the Soldier, reaching out a hand and touching him gently on the arm. The Soldier didn't even notice. Steve frowned and looked in to the alley.

Before the serum, he would have been staring in to darkness. His only working ear would he heard only the loudest sounds. But Steve Rogers had been a new man for a while now, and was used to his super-senses.

There were two men, situated near the back of the alley. One was small, with his hair dyed red and the sides of his head shaved. He was dressed in a fishnet shirt, his nipples bears and standing out in the cold air. His legs were wrapped around the waist of the other man, his pants hanging off one leg and his arms wrapped around the shoulders. His mouth was pressed against the others, smiling as he kissed and kissed. The other man was taller, with his hair long enough to put back in a ponytail. His leather jacket was ripped at the elbows and his combat boots prevented his own pants from falling down fully.

"Jack, you..." the small man panted. "Fuck me, fuck me."

"Simon, you dirty little punk." The other man growled and shoved the small man further against the wall.

Through the rushing in his ears, Steve grasped the Soldier by the elbow and hurried them both to the diner. He went in and smiled with numb cheeks at the waitress, who seated them in an out of the way booth.

They sat there in silence. Steve looked everywhere but at the Soldier, who himself was staring at the table and worrying his sleeve in his metal fingers.

The waitress came with a menu and handed it to them with a smile, and they sat in silence a while longer.

"Those men will be killed." The Soldier finally said, voice soft with fear.

Steve sighed heavily and then gave the Soldier a faint smile. "No they won't."

"What they're doing. It's illegal. They'll be killed." The Soldier insisted.

"Not nowadays. People like that, queers and gays, it's okay to be that." Steve said, still smiling faintly. The Soldier shook his head.

"How can it be okay?" he hissed. Steve stopped smiling and put his head back.

"I guess," he finally said, after a long pause, "I guess the world grew up."

The Soldier mulled this over in his head, his fractured memories warring with what he knew about the modern world. When an image came to his head, of narrow hips being squeezed by his own hands, he took a gulp of water and then spoke.

"We were like that." He said under his breath. But Steve could hear him perfectly.

He smiled sadly. "Yes. We had a relationship, going on for nearly 10 years when you...fell."

"But Peggy Carter?"

"She knew." Steve chuckled. "She was willing to act as my lady if it would help conceal out relationship. And the Howling Commandos also knew, cause they would be the ones to alert us if there was a commanding officer nearby. We had a lot of friends willing to risk their lives and the law to help us be together."

"And now you have new friends." The Soldier said, looking Steve in the eye with his own blank stare.

Steve reached over and put a hand over the Soldier's left. The Soldier didn't flinch away. "They're your friends too, if you want them to be."

The Soldier swallowed and said quietly "And if they don't?"

Steve shrugged. "Then I'll have to get some new friends. It's you and me, Bucky, you and me. Not anyone else if they don't want to know."

The waitress came then, and they ordered. They sat in silence, as both thought about the other, and how they might fit in to their lives. Food came, and they ate, still in silence.

When the Soldier stood up and went to the bathroom, Steve wasn't surprised when Natasha slid into his place and started eating his chips.

"How long have you been following me?" he asked.

She shrugged. "A couple of days. You're surprisingly difficult to find when you don't want to be."

Steve smiled at that. "All part of evading the enemy."

"Am I the enemy?"

"That depends." Steve put down his burger and leaned forward, eyes dark with threat of bodily harm. "Have you come to take Bucky away?"

She held his gaze. "Has he hurt you?"

Steve shook his head. "No. I don't think he could if he remembered how. He's in a kind of memory limbo, neither the Winter Soldier nor Bucky. I'm giving him time. I think that's what he needs." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Soldier come out of the bathroom and stop dead. His face whitened and he reached back into his pocket, where he knew the Soldier kept knives. Steve turned his head and shook it quickly, beckoning him over and sliding too the side so that the Soldier could sit facing Natasha.

"Widow." He said, voice devoid of feeling.

"Yasha." Natasha said, equally blank. The Soldier flinched.

"I am...not Russian." He murmured, his hand twisting each other like a nervous child. Without thinking, Steve's hand took the Soldier and laced their fingers together.

Natasha saw this and grinned. It was not a pleasant expression. "Then what are you?"

The Soldier frowned in concentration. "I think...I think I am American. From Brooklyn."

"Like Steve?"

"Yes." This time the Soldier didn't hesitate, he nodded with firm conviction. "Like Steve."

Natasha nodded in understanding and ate more chips. The Soldier frowned and snatched his basket back, grabbing a handful and shoving them all in to his mouth, so that his cheeks bulged. 

"Your manners haven't improved." Steve said, smiling. The Soldier turned to glare at him, although the affect was lessened by the bulge either side of his mouth.

Natasha watched this with a twinkle in her eye, and she looked delighted when the Soldier swallowed (with difficulty) his chips and then stuck his tongue out at Steve. Steve, again without thinking, reached out and grabbed the appendage between his index and middle finger. "Got your tongue." The Soldier looked startled and Natasha crowed with laughter.

The Soldier whipped his tongue back into his mouth and frowned in confusion. Steve gave a soft smile in return and turned back to Natasha.

"We're staying on the road." He said. "Just until Bucky gets better. Then, it's up to him as to what happens after that."

"You're still part of the Avengers." Natasha reminded him gently. She gave Steve her real smile. "You cannot escape that."

Steve nodded. "And when the Avengers are called, I'll come running. But S.H.I.E.L.D no longer exists, so for the moment, I am going to embrace not being employed and go see that country I have been defending for my entire life." Beside Steve, the Soldier shifted in his seat and then placed his own hand on Steve's shoulder. When Steve turned to look at him, the Soldier nodded his head as well. Steve smiled. "Guess that makes two of us."

Natasha grinned at the both of them and stood up from the booth, stretching. Her top rode up, and Steve bit down a grin when he heard several college boys two booths over whimper at the sight.

"You are shameless." Steve said.

"That, I am." Natasha swopped down and kissed Steve on the cheek, before ruffling the Soldier's hair and then bolting out of the diner. There was a beat of silence, before one of the college boys leaned around his booth and looked at Steve and Bucky with slightly incredulous eyes.

"Dude, you know that chick?" he asked.

"Yup." Steve said nonchalantly, going back to his chips.

"You ever tap that?"

Now Steve frowned and leaned around his own booth, giving the young man a dead eye. "She's a friend, nothing more. And her husband is a trained sniper."

The boy turned pale and went back to talking with his friends. Steve went back to eating, but he noted that the Soldier was frowning down at his own empty basket.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked.

"Natalia. She was...I think I may've trainer her." The Soldier said under his breath. Steve let out a breath of his own and but down his food.

"She told me that. She...I think that she still wants to thank you, for saving her life as a kid. But she's warring with the fact that you've shot her. Twice."

The Soldier abruptly went pale. "Little girls. Many little girls, all trained killers. Trained by me. I...I...I corrupted innocence."

"You saved Natasha's life by giving her the tools to survive. In the greater scheme of things, you allowing her to live is the greatest gift you could ever have given her."

The Soldier was still pale. But he picked at the remains of his food, his eyes far away as he remembered. Steve allowed him his silence.

They finished their food and walked back to the van. As they passed the alley, they booth looked in, but Jack and Simon had both gone. Upon getting to the van, both stripped down and lay in tieback, turing off all the lights and snuggling up together as they had been doing the entire time they had been on the road. But this time, there was something else in the Soldiers arms around Steve.

"This was easier when you were smaller." He grumbled under his breath. Steve huffed a laugh.

"Buddy, I wouldn't give up being able to breathe easier over getting smaller any day."

They lay in silence, and just as Steve was about to drift off to sleep, he heard the Soldier breath into his hair "Neither would I."

Steve fell asleep with a smile on his face. It was the first time since Bucky fell from the train that he had done so.

 

 

**************

 

 

The Kentucky roads were surprisingly pleasant to drive, and, now that the Soldier was regaining more and more memories, he often spent his time with his feet kicked up on the dashboard, questioning Steve over the things he did remember, trying to discern what was fact and what was fiction.

"That Russian land lady who rented us our first apartment. Did she really try to set you up with her granddaughter?" the Soldier asked, after fiddling with his Rubix Cube that Steve had bought him a few days ago. Steve grinned at the road.

"Multiple times."

"What happened to her? The granddaughter I mean."

Steve frowned as he thought back, then smiled and laughed as he remembered. "She ended up marrying your boss at the docks. We both went to the wedding."

The Soldier frowned and fiddled more. "She had...brown hair. With green eyes."

"Yeah. You once said she had a great ass too."

The Soldier nodded. "She did. Like two ripe peaches."

Steve nearly choked with laughter. He slapped the steering wheel and rocked back and forth in his seat, snorting.

The Soldier looked at Steve's merriment, and smiled, small and soft, for the first time in 70 years.

 

 

***********

 

 

That night, after parking near a promising stretch of woods (it has a stream, so no breaking in to places to have a wash), they discover that they have actually parked near a horse farm. Steve was rinsing down in the stream when he heard a snort, and saw the Soldier running towards the sound. He quickly dried off and shrugged on his clothes, running barefoot to where the Soldier had run.

The found the Soldier stroking the nose of a huge black horse, its dark brown eyes flickering with delight. The expression on the soldiers face brought Steve up short. It was so open, so full of calm that Steve felt his heart swell.

"It just came up to me. It didn't even hesitate." The Soldier whispered.

"Soldier..." Steve said, his eyes stinging.

"No." The soldier shook his head. "I'm not the Soldier anymore."

Steve swallowed. "Who are you now?"

The Soldier didn't look at Steve, still entranced by the horse. "Not Bucky, not yet. But...I may be James."

Steve let out a breath. "James. That's good. That's...James. You are James." Steve didn't bother to fight back the tears in his eyes, as they left and ran down his cheeks. James turned back and saw this, but wasn't alarmed. He reached out and grabbed Steve's hand, bringing him over to the horse. He put his hand on the horses noses.

"It's very soft." James said as Steve, of his own volition, stroked the soft hair. The horse snorted and moved as closer as he could, loving the attention he was getting. James smiled again. Looking around to see if there was anyone around, and seeing they were alone, he hopped over the fence and went around the horse to pat it on the neck. The horse shoved Steve's hand and Steve took it as an incentive to come to the other side of the fence as well.

"Did we every ride horses?" James asked. Steve shook his head.

"No. We lived in Brooklyn, we were poor. We couldn't afford horses, let alone going to see them. Besides, the straw would have triggered off my asthma."

"Shame."

They stood in silence, stroking the horse. When James was nudged, he turned around to see a chestnut horse staring expectantly at him. He transferred his attentions to that horse and smiled even wider when the horse rested its head on his shoulder.

"We might have ridden them during the war." Steve then said slowly. "Dernier took us to his farm at one point, we rode horses then."

James didn't look at Steve, but moved down the horse. Before Steve could stop him, he gripped the horse tightly around the nape and sprung up onto it's back. He settled himself and gazed down at without a smile. But his eyes bought the moonlight, and Steve remembered the storied of fairies and the Seelie that his mother had told him, when he coughed himself to sleep and was convinced that he wouldn't see another dawn.

He looked ethereal.

Steve then swung himself onto his own horse, and the animal moved with the extra weight. But Steve rigged with his thighs and, using the mane, he gentled the horse so that it stood side by side with James and the chestnut.

"Do you remember how to do this?" he asked.

James shook his head. "My body does." And it did, because he too was sitting comfortably, and he played with the mane weaving between his fingers.

"Muscle memory." Steve said with a smile. He clicked his tongue and urged the horse into a steady walk. James followed, his eyes fixed ahead. The night was warm, and Steve had shrugged out of his shirt, leaving him in only his vest and jeans. His feet were tickled by the hairs, and he enjoyed feeling the sides heave with breath the occasional heartbeat. James likewise was barefoot, and often curled his toes into the hair.

They rode in the moonlight, side by side. When Steve, feeling playful, urged his horse into a gallop with a whoop. He heard James exclaim in surprise before the echoing sound of hoofbeats joined him.

Together they rode back and forth across the field, their horses keeping with each other so that they rode beside each other. Steve looked over to see James, his hair blown back from his face. Steve's throat closed at the sight, and he felt his eyes sting, because suddenly he was transported back 70 years to that night at the farm, Dernier and Gabe cheering and Dum-Dum, grinning around his cigar. Morita and Falsworth were riding too, but Steve and Bucky were the entertainment, city boys who had never been near a horse in their life. Steve had been bucked off when he first got in, and Bucky had been practically laid flat along the horse, not willing to sit upright. But eventually, they had trusted their steeds, and soon were riding like pros.

This was similar to that, but this time, they were alone, and they rode in peace, with only the moonlight as their companion.

When they had finished, they got off the horses and said goodbye. The chestnut hooked his head over James's shoulder and snuffled his hair, unwilling to let his new friend go. James murmured as he de-tangled himself, and with a final pat he went back to the camp. Steve smiled at the horses and then followed. 

Thye walked back in silence, and when they get back to camp, Steve threw more logs on the fire to keep it going, and James went to the stream, stripping off his clothes so that he might bathe as well. Steve averted his eyes at the scarring on his back, as his stomach clenched in anger at the stripes that James bore. They criss-crossed his back like a chessboard, from the nape of his neck to the back of his knees, and everywhere in between.

Steve hooked the pots and pans over the fire, and was cooking rice and chill when James came back from the creak. He was still naked, as he didn't have the shame or the body modesty that he used to have. So far, he had slept in boxers, but that was looking to change. He squatted down by the fire and accepted the bowl of food from Steve, eating slowly with the spoon provided. Steve tried and failed to keep his eyes on his food, and not on James' crotch. His penis lay softly against his balls, and in the firelight they were shadowed and looked so inviting.

'NO, Steve.' Steve said to himself, giving himself a firm talking to. This was not the time to lust after James, not when he was still barely himself.

James finished and gave Steve the bowl back, allowing himself to shuffle closer to the fire. He bathed in the heat, eyes looking into the flames with a blank expression. Steve joined him after washing up and putting away, and they sat in silence. It was comfortable.

Right up until the minute James said softly "I saw you looking. You can touch, I won't mind."

Steve swallowed and looked at James. James looked back, his expression shuttered but his eyes nervous. Steve shook his head.

"You don't want it. I don't want to force you, so no. This is enough."

"But we used to be like that. We used to fuck, you used to use me. I know that." James looked confused. He shuffled closer to Steve and put a hand on his thigh. Despite himself, Steve's cock twitched. James' eyes left Steve and layered in on his crotch.

"Yes, I want you." Steve said softly. He took James' hand in his own and cradled it. "I want you, because you are beautiful, and because once day in the future, you will be Bucky. But you're not Bucky now, you are James. You don't want this." James looked confused at Steve. "I can hazard a guess, based on want you said, what happened to you when you were with H.Y.D.R.A. You were raped, you were taught that, apart from as a weapon, you were also the company whore." James jerked, and Steve cursed his harsh words. But some things needed to be said. "You are not. You have had terrible things happen to you, and I want you to heal. And if you never feel like you want to have sex with me again, I can live with that. But you don't want it now, so I'll wait for you."

James sniffled and wiped his nose on his arm, tears stinging his eyes. He tightened his grip on Steve's hand, and shuffled until he was leaning against Steve's side, resting his head on his shoulder. Steve took the initiative and wrapped his arms around James, brining him against his chest.

"Can we do this?" Steve asked. James nodded and buried his head even further. They stayed in front of the fire for a long time.

When they got into be that night, it was Steve holding James, his face buried in clean soft hair and a smile on his face.

 

 

*************

 

 

Near the border to Missouri, they stopped off to get the other Kentucky staple. James was manning the van, leaning against the window with his eyes closed, when Steve knocked on the window (startling him) to find Steve grinding widely and holding up the biggest bottle of bourbon James could ever remember seeing.

James wound down the window. "We can't get drunk." He reminded Steve. Steve's grin didn't lessen and he made his way to the driving seat, getting in and stowing the bottle on James' lap.

"I know. But doesn't mean we can't enjoy the challenge." He had often been played with alcohol when he had visited Avengers Tower (he was a friend of Tony Stark) but no one had succeeded in getting him drunk. 

(In a private moment, he and Thor had bemoaned the fact that they were the only people in the Avengers who couldn't get drunk. Clint had seen them, and told them that they were almost more depressing than the drunk people.)

They drove to just outside the border, and pulled over when they saw a bit of secluded woodland. As James got a fire ready, Steve prepared sandwiches and they ate quickly. They say by the fire, and Steve opened the bottle. He took a long gulp and then put the bottle down, feeling the liquid burn.

"Whoa!" he breathed out and coughed, feeling as though his chest was on fire. He couched and grinned at James, who was frowning at him. James grabbed the bottle and took a long gulp. He put the bottle down and swallowed, his face showing nothing.

"Not as good as vodka." He said and took another long gulp. Steve gaped at him.

"That stuff could be used as paint thinner." He said. James glared at him.

"Good vodka is delicious, smooth and cool. Your cheap American crap has nothing on proper Russian vodka."

Steve laughed and grabbed the bottle back, chugging from it like it was going out of fashion. "It's a pity I can't get drunk." He said, wiping his chin.

James tilted his head in acknowledgment. "Neither can I, although I have tried on occasion."

Steve looked confused. "When would you have had occasion to try?"

James' eyes shuttered and became blank, and he stared into the fire. "During their parties, when I was the party favour. Sometimes, when everyone was fucking each other, I would sneak over to the table and try and give myself alcohol poisoning."

Steve abruptly felt his good mood dim, and he put the bottle on the floor, no longer caring that it spilled. "I'm sorry I asked." He said in a small voice. James shrugged.

"You asked. I answered. I told the truth. You cannot change the answer no matter how much you may want to."

Steve stared in to the fire with James, before saying "You weren't this philosophical when you were younger."

James looked at Steve with a blank face but with eyes creased slightly in cautious amusement. "I was more eager to seize each and every day?" he asked. Steve shook his head.

"No, not like that. I mean, you may have been philosophical and just never told me, but you were so full of life you never really took the time to reflect. You were always pulling me along with you into life, I never really noticed when you stopped and stared at the sunset."

"I think I may have, stopped and stared I mean." James said slowly after a few minutes of silence. "When you were sick."

"Oh yeah?" Steve was cautiously optimistic about what James might say, as this could be an indication of a memory returning.

"I remember, sitting by your bedside, trying to imagine what life would be like without you. It was a pretty bleak picture. In the end, I think I bribed you out of sickness each time."

Steve frowned. "How so?"

James turned and looked Steve full in the face. "I told you I would follow you in to heaven when you died, so that I wouldn't be alone on Earth."

Steve felt stunned. His body felt weird and floaty, and he knew that he was in shock. Eventually he wet his suddenly dry lips and whispered "Suicide is a sin, James. You would have gone straight to Hell."

James shrugged. "Hell couldn't have been any worse than spending a lifetime on Earth without Steve Rogers by my side."

Steve felt his eyes sting and resolutely swallowed down tears. He opened his mouth to say something when he was cut off by James saying "Funny how some things can remain the same, even after 70 years."

"Oh?" Steve choked out.

James gave Steve a tiny smile. "Even when I was the Soldier, the Asset, the Weapon, I still couldn't think about living in a world without you." He shrugged. "That's why I couldn't kill you."

"Oh, James." Steve breathed out. He shuffled closer to James and, slowly, waiting for any flinch, he laid his head on James' shoulder.

They spent the evening staring into the fire, and the night in each others arms, under the stars.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Despite having his face on every wanted poster from here until Mexico, James drove them through the border into Missouri. He smiled at the border guard, and showed so many teeth that the guard started sweating, convinced that the man was secretly a shark in disguise. James continued grinning as he pulled away and drove, Steve next to him chuckling at the expression.

"I haven't seen that expression since you cornered Jimmy Fallon outside out apartment." He said.

"Why was I grinning at him?" James asked.

"Because he had put me in bed with pneumonia by stuffing ice down my shirt, and you were about to beat the living daylights out of him."

"Did I?" 

Steve nodded. "Put him in the hospital, but he didn't press charges because he didn't want to admit he had almost killed me."

James pursed his lips in irritation. "Violence seems to have come easy to me."

Steve looked at James with lowered lids. "Violence came easy to both of us. Still does."

"But you're meant to fight for freedom and the American way. You're meant to be peaceful." James was confused. 

"Nope." Steve grinned at James in turn. "I fought all my life. Yeah, I've always defended those who needed it, but I've fought with people, bloodied their faces and caused fear. I have been a soldier my entire life, since I was born even, and nothing, not the serum, not the USO parades, not the media or the propaganda or those  _idiots_ who think I'm some puppet for the politicians, is going to change that."

James sat in silence for a while, before saying "How long have you been waiting to say all that?"

Steve slumped in his seat, feeling curiously tired and relieved. "Probably my entire life."

"Did I know this, before?" James asked. Steve nodded.

"Used to drive you insane, my own disregard for my tiny body."

"I imagine that I used to treat you like glass."

"I wouldn't have let you." Steve looked out of the window. He calculated the risk of saying what was in his mind, then decided that he was too deep to back away now. "When we made time together, you would take me as hard as you could. You loved to see your bruises on my hips. After the serum, we could finally switch it up, but even then, it was your bruises and your fingers which would make me, even if they never lasted."

James licked his lips. "I wish I could remember that."

Steve gave James a small, soft smile. "You may, you may not. It doesn't matter."

"It matters to you!" James hissed. His hands gripped the steering wheel, and the leather squeaked and buckled under his left hand.

"I'm not going to lie, I'd love it if you could remember everything, how we once were. But I won't force anything from you. We'll go at your own pace."

They drove in silence for a long time, and when it was dark, they pulled over into a car park. They got out, intent on finding a restaurant to eat, when James said "You are too good for this world."

Steve smiled. "And yet, here I stand."

"Against the bullies?"

Steve laughed and set off, tossing over his shoulder "Against all the bullies!"

 

 

**********

 

 

They sat in the restaurant, eating burgers the size of their heads, when Steve pulled out a burned phone from his pocket and looked James in the eye. "I want to call Sam, let him know I'm safe."

James felt his insides freeze. "No!"

"He's my friend." Steve looked agonised. "He'll be worried. I need to let him know I'm alive."

"He'll find us, he'll take us in." James put down his burger, feeling as though it had turned to ash in his mouth. "We'll be separated. They'll put me in the Cold. They'll Wipe me." 

"No, no. James, you gotta calm down!" Steve put down the phone. "We saw Natasha, and we're still on the road. No one has come for us. You gotta trust me, like I gotta trust my friends. We'll be safe, I promise. They'll have to get through me to get to you. You must know this. I promise, you'll be safe. But I gotta call my friend."

James gulped and nodded, and Steve breathed out a sigh of relief. He put a hand over James' left and squeezed. James felt the servos in his hand whir and squeeze, and he felt his face flush with shame, remembering what damage it had caused the man opposite not a few months ago. Steve picked up the phone and dialled, and James could hear the conversation.

"Sam, it's me. It's Steve."

There was a pause, before James heard " _Steve, I...Steve, you're alive?_ " _  
_

Steve swallowed. "Yeah. I'm alive and I'm safe. I promise you, I'm safe."

" _Oh, thank Christ_." He heard Sam give a relieved sob. " _You ass, you've been driving me insane!_ "

"I thought that Natasha would have told you that I was alive." Steve frowned.

" _Yeah, yeah she told me. But doesn't mean I haven't worried. You were a fucking dead man._ "

"Everyone thinks I'm dead?"

" _Not, not like that. But everyone has been so worried, both here and at the Tower. Have you been watching the news?"_

"No." Steve looked at James. "We've been keeping a low profile."

" _Man, Tony Stark has been making appeals for your_ _safety. It's getting to the stage when we were worried that we were going to have to send Coulson out to find you._ "

Steve looked shocked and reared back in his seat. "Coulson? But he's dead. Loki killed him."

" _Well he's either discovered the secret of eternal life, or Fury lied to you. I'm betting on the latter._ "

Steve growled. "If he wasn't officially dead, I'd fucking kill him."

" _Either way, Coulson's head of S.H.I.E.L.D now, and he's been biting his fingers down with worry. Thor's been telling me that he's spent a lot of time at the Tower, trying to persuade Stark and Banner to track you_ _down. No dice, but it's been hectic there._ "

"You've been speaking to Thor?" Steve grinned.

" _Yeah. Great guy, kind of old fashioned, but really good to talk to. You know that him and Jane broke up?"_

"No? Why?"

" _Turns out he's got someone else. Thought that the relationship had broken off but has apparently been given the go ahead to resume it. That's all he would tell us anyway._ "

"You liking the Avengers Sam? Thinking of joining?"

 _"I couldn't leave my vets in DC, they rely on me. But doesn't mean I'm not considering joining. Just not going to live in the Tower. I'll be like a free-lance Avenger._ "

Steve laughed.

" _Anyway where are you? How are you more_ _importantly?"_

"We're in Missouri. I'm fine, so is James."

" _I asked about you, not him._ "

Steve frowned again. "He can hear you."

" _I don't fucking care. The man ripped off my wings, tried to kill me and kidnapped you. Forgive me if he's not on my Christmas card list at the_ _moment._ "

James felt his insides squirm, and he tentatively identified that feeling as shame.

"Sam, I'm not coming back until both James and I feel as though we are ready. You may as well suck it up and support me on this, or otherwise we're going to have a real problem."

There was silence on the other end of the line, and Steve's face was stony as he ate chips. James couldn't eat, the shame in his stomach churning and preventing him from feeling hungry. Finally, he heard Sam say " _Nice to hear you've still got a set of ball on you. Listen, I'm not exactly happy, but it's up to you. Until you and James feel ready, you just keep doing what_ _you need to do._ "

Steve sighed in relief. "Cheers man. I'm glad you get what I'm trying to do."

 _"Yeah, yeah_ _. I want souvenirs. Bribe me with cheap crap from America."_

Steve grinned. "I'll see you soon."

 _"Bye Steve. For Gods sake, keep_   _safe._ " There was a click, and Steve put the phone down.

"You have good friends." James said. He had been stealing chips whist Steve was on the phone, and so gave a small smile when Steve went to get some chips and found the basket empty.

"They could be your friends too, if you wanted them to be." Steve said, shrugging as he stole James' onion rings.

"I don't think that your friend with the wings is too happy with me at the moment." James said quietly. Steve gave him a small smile and patted his hand.

"Sam's an awesome guy. He'll come 'round eventually, he just needs time."

"Like me."

Steve smiled wider. "Yeah, kind of like you."

They finish eating and go back to the van, crawling on to the mattress and snuggling. This time, it takes James an age to fall asleep, ad he stares at the roof, wondering how it could be possible that someone who was not even human a few months ago could have the possibility of having friends. He chalks it up to the continuing good presence of Steve Rogers, snuggles down into soft blond hair, and tunes out the world.

 

 

**********

 

 

They go to the Gateway Arch in St Louis, and Steve slips the man piloting the shuttles and extra $200 so that he and James can ride alone. They board a shuttle and ride up to the top of the arch, each pressing their face against the windows so that they can take in as much of St Louis as possible.

"It's amazing." Steve says quietly. James nods by his side.

"Growing up, we never thought we would even leave New York. I mean, we dreamed of seeing America, but we could barley afford the rent let alone a train ticket."

James doesn't mind it now that Steve goes on about their shared childhood and early adulthood. He may not remember, but it settles him to know that he had a history, had a family in Steve and that had been a human being, before the Fall and the Wiping and the Metal arm.

"We've seen more of Europe that we have of our own country."

James frowned. He found he didn't like it when Steve sounded sad, and had concluded that this, like loving Steve, was something that had been ingrained to his bones when he was a boy.

"But we're seeing America now." James pointed out, moving away from his window and walking to Steve's. He leaned against Steve and smushed his face alongside Steve's against the window. Steve grinned and James felt it, giving a small smile in return as they watched the view.

"I'm glad you don't have lice." Steve murmured, feeling James' overlong hair flop against his.

"Never had, I don't think." James said. Steve laughed.

"You did, actually." He said, recounting. "When you were eight, you got them at school."

"Gross."

"Yeah, it was. My ma had you sit in a chair wrapped in a towel, with your hair all greased up. You complained non-stop, and I sat in the corner laughing at you. It was so funny, and you were so irritated."

James smiled slightly wider. "Did I manage to give them to you?"

"Nope. By the end of the day, all those little buggers were dead, and you spent about half an hour washing yourself in our bath. You were convinced you were going to be greasy forever. It was a great day for me, because I spent all my time catching up on the homework I had missed because I was sick, and in the end, I was able to get us both strawberry ice-cream."

James was silent for a minute, before asking softly "Did I like it?"

Steve settled on the floor of the shuttle, James slipping down beside him. "You couldn't get enough of the stuff. If we had enough money, it was strawberry ice-cream during the summer, and if you could steal them, punnet of the things." Steve laughed suddenly, remembering. "On the Fourth of July, you'd always manage to steal so many that we would make ourselves sick eating them on the roof of the tenement. Ma was not happy."

They sat side by side, watching the sky before James put his head on Steve's chest, listening to the steady _thump-thump-thump_ of Steve's heart. He dimly remembered a time when he had laid his head on Steve's sparrow chest, and ice ran through his veins as he listened to that weak, irregular heart beat. He had known, deep in his bones, that Steve was most likely not going to see 30, if he even survived that winter.

"I wish I could remember these things." He whispered into Steve's chest. He felt Steve's arms come up and hug his shoulders, and Steve's head coming down to rest on top of his.

"Don't worry." Steve whispered back. "I do all the remembering for the both of us."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They were in Kansas, looking at the Largest Ball of Twine, when James said "I am so. Fucking. Bored."

Steve garnered all manner of filthy looks from the other tourists as he gripped his stomach, practically crying with laughter.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The days were starting to blur together slightly for Steve, as they made their way across America. He drove and drove and drove, and he learned more about the man beside hime, enough that he could start to meld the two images he had of him.

The Bucky of old had been smart mouthed, quickly witted and smooth with the ladies, which he had to be to disguise the fact that he would often spend him time bent over the nearest available object in their flat, letting Steve take him. This new man, James, was no less quick witted, but he had lost the mouth that as constantly in use. Instead he watched more, observed his surroundings and especially Steve, who let him, not minding the scrutiny. This was the new James Buchanan Barnes, this quiet, deeply sarcastic man. His jokes were still ever present, but they now took a darker edge, one that would have sent the Steve of old into worried thoughts, but now instead sent him into convulsions of glee. Steve, having experienced war and loss, was also changed for it, and now appreciated most humour, especially the darker kind (it was one of the reasons he got on so well with Natasha). 

James a Steve moved across the continent, spending their evenings curled up together in the back of the van, exchanging long, slow kisses, with tongues curled around each others as though each was trying to remove the others soul and keep it.

Steve could not remember the last time he had been so happy. But there was a slowly growing tension between the two of them, and Steve, ever patient, waited for it to come to a head.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It happened in Colorado, where they were camping (illegally) on the plains. James had been tense all day, casting Steve side along glances in the van and not copying up to him as he had done when they got the fire going and the food on. 

Steve had been about to turn to James and offer him a cup of coffee when he heard James say lowly "You still won't fuck me."

Steve sighed and put the cup down. "We've had this discussion before. I won't shag you until you're ready."

"But I am ready." James stared mulishly at Steve. "I've been kissing you for days now. I want to have sex. I want you."

Steve tipped his head back and sighed in irritation. "Kissing may be a precursor to sex, James, but that wasn't necessarily what I was thinking off when we started kissing."

James growled and stood up abruptly, pacing in agitation. "I want to sleep with you, but you still don't want to."

Steve frowned. "Believe me, James, I really want to sleep with you. But I won't because I still don't believe you're ready."

"But I am!" James exploded. "Am I so repulsive that you won't be able to get it up? Is all you want that boy, Bucky Barnes from 70 years ago, because I promise you, he ain't coming back! What you have now is me, this fucked up version that HYDRA tore apart and that you have stitched back together! You won't get anyone else, I'm not going to magically be him again! But I'm better, I swear, and I want you to fuck me!"

"James, I swear to God-" Steve gritted out, but James was on a role.

"If I cut my hair short and put some pomade in it, if I wore a shirt to cover my arm, I'd bet you'd shag me then! Shall I do that, shall I become Bucky Barnes from the 1930's again, because if that is what it takes for you to shag me, if that's what it takes for you to hold me like you did before then I will." Tears were starting to appear in James' eyes, but still, he kept going. "I'll be that man again, just give me a chance! I need you, I need you, I'll do anything for that again. I want you so bad, I need you so bad, I'll go back to how I was, when you would hold me over the couch and tell me I was good! Please, please Steve, give me a chance!"

"I won't fucking shag you because you're a rape victim, and I don't want to trigger you!" Steve finally bellowed, seizing James by the shoulders and shaking him. James' tears slipped free and he sniffled, staring up at Steve with his wide blue eyes.

"But they never kissed me." 

Steve literally stopped dead, staring at James with a frown marring his features. "What?"

"They didn't kiss me." James said miserably. "They would fuck me, so many times, with anything they could lay their hands on, but they never kissed my mouth. Rollins once tried to bite my nipples off, but they never kissed me on the mouth, and you do. It's so sweet, Steve, like strawberry and light, and I remember little things, like holding you on the weekends when we had days off and you have me biting into a pillow whilst you took me so good. I remember that, I want that again."

Steve gaped at James, open mouthed. His hands, of their own accord, left James' shoulders and cupped his face, bringing him in to Steve's so that Steve could kiss him.

They kissed for a long time, but this time, Steve didn't bother to hide his erection. Instead he pressed it against James' hip, to gauge his reaction. James' didn't retreat, as Steve had feared, but instead pressed his own erection into Steve.

"I don't want the old Bucky." Steve whispered against James' lips. He rolled his hips and he heard James groan in his chest. "I want you. So badly."

"Fuck me." James begged. " _Please_."

Steve's breath hitched and he pulled James further into his chest. James giggled into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulder and then his legs around Steve's waist. Steve groaned at the extra weight and nearly toppled backwards. He walked to the van, opened the back doors and pulled out the mattress with all the bedding, laying it down by the fire. All of this he accomplished without putting James down or even stopping kissing him.

He tumbles James down on to the mattress, and James writhes against the sheets as if his skin had suddenly become too much. Steve steps back and looks at him, looks at this display and thinks 'I did this to him. This is mine. He is  _MINE_!'

James gripes his t-shirt between his hands and rends it open in one smooth motion, bearing his chest. His nipples peak in the cool night air and saliva fills Steve's other as he looks at them. He throws himself down and, remembering what James had said about Rollins, licks a wide path over one peaked nub.

"Fuck!" James exclaims and arches his chest, hands clutching wildly at the mattress fabric. He knows better than to tear it, and continues to heave his chest as Steve rolls one nipple between his lips, alternating when James pushed his chest in the appropriate direction.

James is straining, neck arched and veins standing out, and Steve leaned back for a brief moment to look at him. James looks debauched already, and they haven't even gotten their pants off. Steve licks his lips and moves up to claim James' mouth, kissing him filthily. Their tongues make obscene noises, during which Steve uses James' distraction to divest him of his pants and Steve's clothes.

They writhe naked together, each groaning at the feel of the others erection against their own. James breaks the kiss and looks down.

"Nice to see everything finally got proportional."

Steve flushed in the dark. "It wasn't that big before."

"Steve, on a normal man you would have had a nice, healthy size dick. But you were a shrimp. When you undressed you looked like a tripod."

Steve laughed. "I remember you commenting on it, the first time you saw me hard. You thought I was going to pass out due to lack of blood flow to the brain."

James doesn't have that memory, and so he says "Did you?"

Steve's smile turned gentle, and he nuzzled James' chin. "Nope. We had a grand old time that night."

"Like tonight?" James' presses upwards and hears Steve hiss through his teeth.

"Oh, baby. We'll be going all night." Steve rolled his hips and heard James gasp, claiming his mouth again as he reached out a hand and searched around for his pants. He found them and pulled a tube of lubricant out of the pocket. James saw this and grinned.

"Boy Scout."

Steve mock salutes. "Always be prepared." He coats two fingers and gently rubs them around James' hole. James' face loses the grin and he closes his eyes, tipping his head back as he tried desperately to relax. It actually hadn't been that long for him, he had been with Pierce right after he had been Wiped, but Pierce had never bother with preparation, choosing instead to coat himself and ram home.

"You don't actually have to do this." Steve soothed, running his other hand over James' frown lines. James opened his eyes and glared at him.

"I want it. Believe me, I've got enough of myself back that if I didn't want it, you'd know. Just, let me get used to it."

"Take as long as you like."

They spend a good five minutes with Steve circling, James alternatively clenching and relaxing, before he grinned at Steve and jerked his hips down, sinking on to the two fingers like he had been practising.

"Fuck!" Steve swore as his fingers were enveloped in tight heat. James groaned above him and gripped his hair, jerking his hips slightly as he rubbed himself against Steve's abs. "Slow down there buddy, or you'll finish before we've even got started."

James groaned. "I can literally feel the stone eroding around me with how slow you're going. More, give me more!"

Steve obliged and sunk his remaining fingers in. James moaned and whipped his head back and forth, hair covering his face. His chest was red up to his neck, and his left arm was playing with his nipples, the cool metal serving as a contrast with his high body temperature. He felt like his skin was too small to contain his body, the heat he was generating and the pleasure that infused every nerve.

"Gotcha." Steve murmured and withdrew his fingers. He coated his cock and lined himself up before slowly pushing in. The heat was almost too much, and Steve bit his lip to contain himself. "God, you feel amazing."

"Flat...flatterer." James stutters. His hands have left Steve's and are gripping his shoulders, pulling him in to that their chests rub together.

"No, you feel so  _good_!"

"Am I good?" James whispers.

Steve nodded and leaned down, rubbing his cheek along James'. "So good. You're my good boy, my best man, always have been, always will be."

James' notes his lips and closes his eyes, hiding his tears. He didn't know how much he needed to hear that before Steve had said it, but it soothed the swirling in his gut, calming him. This was nothing like before, when he had been passed around as a party favour, or when he had experienced the mockery of affection from Pierce. This was  _love_ , love so strong it literally transcended time and brain-washing and finally,  _finally_ , James knew he was safe.

"Move." He whispered into Steve's ear. Steve huffed and gently thrust his hips, sending James into a near spasm of pleasure.

Steve continued to move gently until James, tired of the slow treatment, smacked his ass. Steve jumped and then grinned, before giving James one mighty thrust that nearly sent him off the bed.

"Ha!" James crowed and thrust back. They moved, match for match, Steve thrusting hard and feeling the tight heat envelop his cock, whilst James shoved back, relishing the feel of Steve inside of him.

"Oh, God!" Steve groaned, burying his face into James' hair. James hugged his shoulders and stared sightlessly at the sky, to wrapped up in pleasure to notice the stars.

"Mhhhh, mhhh, mffffff, James, James, I'm gonna come."

James gripped the shoulders tighter. "Come in me, please. I need you in me, please, please." He begs. He barely feels his own cock, leaking copiously against his stomach. Instead he longs for Steve to spill inside of him.

Steve groans and his hips stutter, and James cries out and comes himself when he feels the rush from Steve warm his insides. He petted Steve's hair as he pants, kissing the damp side of his head.

Steve kissed him and then rolled over, so that they lay side by side, staring at the sky. They joined hands and looked.

"I'm in the wet spot." James murmured, eyes never leaving the sky.

"You could move." Steve said back softly.

"Nah, too comfortable."

"Then stop complaining. Oof!" He exclaims as James punches his shoulder. They go back to staring at the sky.

"Could you have imagined, when we were living together in that shit little apartment, when the heating would crap up and you would nearly cough yourself to death? Could you have imagined ever being this happy?" James asked, shuffling so that his head rested on Steve's shoulder. He heard Steve sigh and kiss his head.

"No."

"Oh." James frowned and tilted his head to look at Steve. "Are you happy now?"

Steve smiled and blinked back tears. "I have never been more happy, than how I am in this moment."

They sleep under the stars, and in the morning, they pack up and move on.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They shag their way through Nevada and Utah. There is no other way of putting it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They're standing in the first of the the HOLLYWOOD, leaning together and sipping bears. Their van is parked illegally below.

"Steve." James murmured. His hair was bound back from his face and his left hand was no longer encased in a glove.

"Hmmm?" Steve continued to look out over L.A.

"Call me Bucky."

Steve smiles worn the lump in his throat and pulled Bucky into his arms, hugging him as hard as Bucky was. 

"I'm so glad to see you." Steve whispered into Bucky's hair, and he heard Bucky give a watery laughed.

"Missed you too, punk."

"Jerk." They separated and looked out at L.A.

They stood for a long time, until it started to get light, before Bucky looked at Steve and said "I want to go home."

Steve smiled and looped his arm around Bucky's shoulders. "I'll call a ride."

And that's exactly what they did.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

** Epilogue **

 

They leave the van in L.A, and Tony charters a helicopter to pick them up from the Hollywood sign. They get back to New York 12 hours later, and the first thing Tony does after being introduced to Bucky is punch him directly on the nose.

"Shit, Tony!" Steve exclaimed as he examined Bucky's nose, which was pouring with blood but already starting to heal.

"That's for killing my parents." 

Bucky's looked nervous, but tony, having vented, comes over and exclaims over his metal arm, immediately commandeering it and dragging both it and Bucky down into his workshop. By the end of the week, Steve and Bucky have moved into their floor in Avengers Tower, and Bucky had a brand new, lighter, stronger arm with Captain America's shield on the shoulder.

For the first few months, people act leery around Bucky, until he chats his way into Pepper's, Bruce's and Clint's lives. Natasha remains firmly in the neutral zone until both she and Bucky get drunk on Asgardian mead and spent the evening tearfully holding each other up and apologising to each other for everything. Clint posts this onto his YouTube account and becomes a god on Tumblr.

Thor takes one look at Bucky with those blue, all knowing eyes and pats him on the head, telling him he reminded him of someone he once knew, and that he was glad that Bucky had found his peace.

(Bucky meets the someone when he is eating cereal by himself at 2.30 in the morning following a nightmare in the communal kitchen, and the elevator pings open from Thor's floor. Out steps a man, completely naked, with wild black hair tangled about his face and cheeks flushed from sex. He walks to the kitchen but stops when he see's Bucky. His green eyes narrow and he purses his lips.

Bucky is desperately trying to ignore the fact that the man appears to have a vagina behind his cock, and it's leaking semen. Some things he just doesn't want to know.

The man continues to stare at him for a while, before his lips split into a large grin and he strides up to Bucky, leaning over and smacking a loud kiss on his cheek. "I like you." He exclaims before turning to the fridge, grabbing the carton of milk and swallowing it all down. He puts the empty carton back into the fridge and walks back to the elevator, tossing over his shoulder "We'll talk later, Bucky Barnes."

Bucky is still staring into his cereal when the others come in for breakfast.

But, perhaps unsurprisingly, they do talk. And they  _listen_.)

He still has nightmares. He still has days when he wakes up and can't even get out of bed for how dirty he feels. His arms aches and feels from and he cries like a wounded child, sorry for everything he did and things he didn't even do.

But he has Steve. Wonderful, safe Steve, who had nightmares too. Who folds him up in his arms and holds him at his worst, or he kicks his ass in the gym at his best. Who smiles like the sun, only for him, and makes Bucky remember that he is  _alive_ , that he his Bucky. He is no longer the Asset, no longer the Soldier.

But, as it was when he first pulled a small child from the dirt and wiped the grit from his knees, Steve Rogers shall ever remain his Directive, his One True Cause, his Mission.

And that, for him, is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> The bit about Steve's accent and him loosing it is from personal experience. I had, when I was a teenager, the thickest British accent (think monarchy posh), which I gradually lost after years of both moving around and having people mock me for it. I sometimes wish my accent was still as it was, so that is why I gave Steve back his original Brooklyn accent.
> 
> Tumbleweed will be updated before the end of December or within the first week of January and it will be the start of the third and final arc of the story.


End file.
